Abeokuta literally means “under rock”; a referent to the refuge people found under its many rocks in 1825 while escaping slave hunters from Dahomey and Ibadan. That was 191 years ago, but the rocks remain in their majestic beauty; wowing visitors, and lending a picturesque quality to the scenery of the town in almost every direction. I suspect too, that some inhabitants of Abeokuta didn’t leave their refuge under the rocks those many years ago. Matter of fact, I suspect some of them -through perhaps an overdose of the many juju/jazz/ogun/magicks that were used at the time- were placed in some state that maintained their youth while putting them to sleep. It seems those people are only now waking; ignorant of the passage of time and ancient norms. Only that, you see, explains what I saw last week.

It was 10:34 a.m and two meetings after breakfast. I was running low on ‘human’, and in desperate need of some beany love-in-a-mug (that’s code for coffee, by the way). I trudged my way to the office kitchenette, and was washing teaspoon and mug when the shrubbery in the house opposite the street moved rather sensibly. It wasn’t the effortless bow or wave of wind-caused movement, but some haphazard shift that could only result from human or animal manipulation. My hands stopped mid-air, raising my mug for draining, and I tipped my glasses up my nose with my left hand; my concentration fully on the ‘moving bush’.

A naked arm rose from between the shrub, holding a blue bowl. The hand turned the bowl, and water poured down the middle of the shrubs.

I could smell dust; lots of it. I realised then that I had unconsciously moved forward, perhaps in the bid to see clearer, and my nose was now pressed against the window. I stepped back, even as I sneezed, then moved as close as I could without breathing in dust.

“What the…?!”

A head with a mop of undone hair emerged, then shoulders, swinging breasts, curved waist, flared hips, a miniature bush of hair at the juncture of athletic thighs…

My jaw slackened, my mouth hung open, and I couldn’t find the will to lock it back. A woman was in the shrubbery behind a house, sponging her body! And this, right in the middle of town, not some outskirt. I don’t know how many minutes I stayed there; mouth agape. I was jolted back to reality when she bent, head forward, and rose again, swinging a wrapper around her wet body. An iron bucket rose in her hand from somewhere in the shrubbery; and she was gone, through a door, beyond my vision.

I sat on the nearest chair then, wondering what I had just seen. And if maybe she had seen me… If she would be coming for me in my dreams one night. Because, who showers in a mere back-of-house shrubbery in this age? And at almost 11a.m, when the world is up and about? And in the middle of a busy area where storey buildings abound?

As usually happens, strangers and visitors note nuances easier than natives. Also, the farther the personal culture of the stranger/visitor from the new land, the easier it is for them to note socio-cultural nuances. The simplest reason for this can be explained in terms of the Biblical log and speck of wood analogy. Simply put: if you live with something (the log, in this case) you get used to it; and either never note it, or note it but label it as ‘norm’. When faced with something new (the speck, in this case) however, it registers in your subconscious; at the very least. That would be why visitors say things about where you live that you had either never noticed, or taken for granted. It’s also why you imagine your mother’s soup the sweetest until you travel. Experiencing new things widens horizons and perspectives; the consequence of encountering new experiences.

I moved to Abeokuta some weeks back, a state capital that is a picturesque town. Exploring the town, I am often the lone person smiling to herself, trying hard not to smile, or getting so frustrated she’s chewing on her lips. So I had this brilliant idea: to show you the Abeokuta I see, tell you of its peoples. Let’s explore Abeokuta together, through the city girl’s eyes for as long as I can manage. Noting and enjoying the nuances of this town and its peoples.

An aerial view of Abeokuta; found on Google

Aye, all of these long ‘Englishes’ are to introduce a new series on dupewrites: Humans of Abeokuta. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. Perhaps you would show me and the reading world your town/city too someday; aye?

Like this:

I’m the figure taking quick glances at a red Skone watch at regular intervals; whispering “the fuck?!”. They are angered exclamations offered to the universe; some sort of argument; I think.

If the universe would agree to negotiations and talks, I’d make my case like this:

There are tons of things I couldn’t do when I was ill. They all have deadlines. Do you think you could maybe drag your tail a bit? You know; make time a little slower? I still can’t do so much; lest my doctor scrunches up his nose at me in disapproval and, heavens forbid, declare I can no longer have coffee. Or, worse, that I have to be back on some over-sized medication.

But the universe isn’t responding today. And I’m that scared figure, heads bowed into her laptop, mumbling inaudibilities, hands and fingers fluttering in a frenzy. Or the one with her hands raised to the ceiling; a helplessly frustrated expression on her face. The perfect vision of desperate beseeching.